I was going through some of Tagore’s writings on the net today, and it brought back memories of a certain day of my life. Actually, if I sit back and think about some of the happenings of my life, I could even write a book on it!!! Well, am sure it’s the same scenario with most of us… :-)
Anyway, coming back to that one incident, I must have been in Std I or II then. We lived in Guwahati those days. A cultural show was supposed to be held at one of the auditoriums in our vicinity, people aquainted with Guwahati would know, it was called the Senior Institute in Maligaon.
Before I could realize, my mother over – enthusiastically had begun to prepare me for the show. She handed me a little old book on the cover of which was inscribed in frail letters “Gitanjali” and a little below it were the words “Rabindra Nath Tagore”. Mom guided me through this poem called “Have you not heard his silent steps?” Yes, she taught me to recite that prose.
The next few days I remember I was totally in awe of that poem. I was literally breathing, eating, sleeping over it. Not that I was totally bowled over by the words of Tagore, I mean, come on, I was too young to even understand them!!! I was just excited that I would be doing a recitation on stage the first time of my life.
The D-Day finally arrived. I did a final rehearsal in front of Mom and was so foolishly happy that she liked it! She got me dressed up and took me to the venue. On reaching, I realized there were so many known faces, family friends and all. I was even more thrilled that they would hear me speak.
The show began. At one time, Mom frisked me backstage saying that my turn was next. I, like this obedient kid, waited behind the wings. Then something happened. Someone announced my name. I heard it resound in the auditorium. Mom smiled at me. “Go onstage” she said. I obliged. I stood in the middle of the stage, huge enough to make me look (and feel) like a Lilliput. A technician suddenly realized that the mike was at a much higher level than where I ended. He rushed to my aide. He did something with it, blared 2 or 3 “Hello Hello, 1, 2, 3, Mike testing!” and I was good to go.
No I wasn’t. I glanced around the hall. Packed to full house it was. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to talk but somewhere the words got lost. My ears grew warm and my heart raced. I panicked. I did not even remember the poem I thought I knew so well. I wanted to disappear. Someone from the audience booed. I felt a sharp pain at the corner of my eyes. God, was I about to cry? And then, I looked sideways at the direction of the wings. Mom stood there, looking questioningly at me, but the smile intact.
I did not keep track of the seconds obviously, but I came to know later that it must have been a minute before I finally spoke. I still remember the first line I blurted. It was slow, but sure.
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Tiara Dhar, Today I am going to recite a poem written by Rabindra Nath Tagore. The title of the poem is “Have you not heard his silent steps?”
Pin drop silence.
Have you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age,
Every day and every night
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung
In many a mood of mind,
But all their notes have always proclaimed,
`He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April
Through the forest path
He comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights
On the thundering chariot of clouds
He comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow
It is his steps that press upon my heart,
And it is the golden touch of his feet
That makes my joy to shine.
… That was it. It was over. I beamed and said “Thank You”.
I still don’t know what the meaning of the applause that followed was. Was it appreciation or was it just an applause for the heck of it – I don’t know. What I knew then, was that it was enough to pacify the shaken nerves of a 5 or 6 year old kid, coz she was happy she made her Mom proud. And what I know today is that was the first and the last incident of stage fright I had in my entire life.
Anyway, coming back to that one incident, I must have been in Std I or II then. We lived in Guwahati those days. A cultural show was supposed to be held at one of the auditoriums in our vicinity, people aquainted with Guwahati would know, it was called the Senior Institute in Maligaon.
Before I could realize, my mother over – enthusiastically had begun to prepare me for the show. She handed me a little old book on the cover of which was inscribed in frail letters “Gitanjali” and a little below it were the words “Rabindra Nath Tagore”. Mom guided me through this poem called “Have you not heard his silent steps?” Yes, she taught me to recite that prose.
The next few days I remember I was totally in awe of that poem. I was literally breathing, eating, sleeping over it. Not that I was totally bowled over by the words of Tagore, I mean, come on, I was too young to even understand them!!! I was just excited that I would be doing a recitation on stage the first time of my life.
The D-Day finally arrived. I did a final rehearsal in front of Mom and was so foolishly happy that she liked it! She got me dressed up and took me to the venue. On reaching, I realized there were so many known faces, family friends and all. I was even more thrilled that they would hear me speak.
The show began. At one time, Mom frisked me backstage saying that my turn was next. I, like this obedient kid, waited behind the wings. Then something happened. Someone announced my name. I heard it resound in the auditorium. Mom smiled at me. “Go onstage” she said. I obliged. I stood in the middle of the stage, huge enough to make me look (and feel) like a Lilliput. A technician suddenly realized that the mike was at a much higher level than where I ended. He rushed to my aide. He did something with it, blared 2 or 3 “Hello Hello, 1, 2, 3, Mike testing!” and I was good to go.
No I wasn’t. I glanced around the hall. Packed to full house it was. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to talk but somewhere the words got lost. My ears grew warm and my heart raced. I panicked. I did not even remember the poem I thought I knew so well. I wanted to disappear. Someone from the audience booed. I felt a sharp pain at the corner of my eyes. God, was I about to cry? And then, I looked sideways at the direction of the wings. Mom stood there, looking questioningly at me, but the smile intact.
I did not keep track of the seconds obviously, but I came to know later that it must have been a minute before I finally spoke. I still remember the first line I blurted. It was slow, but sure.
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Tiara Dhar, Today I am going to recite a poem written by Rabindra Nath Tagore. The title of the poem is “Have you not heard his silent steps?”
Pin drop silence.
Have you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age,
Every day and every night
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung
In many a mood of mind,
But all their notes have always proclaimed,
`He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April
Through the forest path
He comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights
On the thundering chariot of clouds
He comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow
It is his steps that press upon my heart,
And it is the golden touch of his feet
That makes my joy to shine.
… That was it. It was over. I beamed and said “Thank You”.
I still don’t know what the meaning of the applause that followed was. Was it appreciation or was it just an applause for the heck of it – I don’t know. What I knew then, was that it was enough to pacify the shaken nerves of a 5 or 6 year old kid, coz she was happy she made her Mom proud. And what I know today is that was the first and the last incident of stage fright I had in my entire life.
